


Between the Lines

by romanticalgirl



Category: Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my letter to the world</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/profile)[**nolivingman**](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Originally written for the [](http://aos-challenge.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://aos-challenge.livejournal.com/)**aos_challenge** epistolary challenge.
> 
> Originally posted 12-6-07

She carefully sets the words down on paper, her free hand around her wrist to keep the hand that holds the pen still. Each letter is precise, written as though the ink were as precious as blood. There is nothing she can say, to be honest, but she etches the words in the parchment as if they carry the weight of some Kingly decree.

_My Dearest Horatio_

She stares at the line until it blurs in her tired eyes. She knows the things that must be put down, though they are all lies. Still, she braces her wrist and writes them, watching the wet ink glisten in the firelight.

_All is well here at home, You needn’t worry about Us. The children are busy as ever, keeping me running from one end of the house to the next._

The children are listless, and lie in their beds, bleating like sheep for milk and biscuits, for fruit and toys. Nothing holds their attention for long, nothing captivates them. They have gone from children to animals, batting at whatever she sets in front of them with all the energy of newborn kittens.

_Mother is well also. You would be amazed at the change in Her. She’s always here to help, to do whatever Must be done._

Mother has taken all her money and squandered it on drink and what little else she can find for entertainment. There are rumors that Maria does not listen to and would not hear, as a lady does not hear such things, and she will be a lady in deed and manner if not in word itself.

_You will be Pleased to note that your Friend, Mr. Bush, has come to Dinner several times in the past month. He always brings something from his Sisters’ home in Chichester, quite often a Fowl of some sort that makes a lovely meal for Us all._

He has not come for dinner so much as come over and stayed, sleeping in the bedroom with her when her mother is not about, which is much of the time, and in the lounge when she is. She does not recall if it was her idea for him to stay on or his gruff request that bartered the arrangement, but it has been made and, if she is honest – with herself at least – she does not mind it at all. He is warm and strong and treats her like something worthwhile.

_I hear news of the war at the Market, and, as always, worry for You. I know it is silly to do so, You are so brave and wise, but I cannot help but fear just a little, and wish that You were safe at Home with Us._

She hears and reads everything, and William explains the words to her. She has learned much under his patient tutelage. She can identify the ships in the harbor at any given time. She knows the name of the sails and she can tie a serviceable knot. She practices it sometimes instead of knitting, watching out the window and trying to tell what ship is in port by the tallest sail she can see.

_I do not know how You can bear it, my Love. The Children miss Their Father so much, and ask for You every night. I tuck them in with Tales of your Bravery and assure them you are keeping us all safe from the Vile French._

She has learned the reasons behind the war from William as well. He has taken the time to teach her things, to assume she can understand truth as opposed to the pretty lies that Horatio tells her. She’s come to realize that they are lies, but when she hears them from him, she has no choice but to believe. She does not think about what that makes her, prefers to allow herself ignorance where she needs it, not just where it is assumed.

_I hope this letter finds You well. I think of You Always and cannot wait until I see You again. The Children send All their Love. As do I. – Yours Always, Maria_

She sprinkles sand on the ink and watches it for a moment, letting it bleed into the paper and then dry. She folds it carefully and slips it in an envelope, sealing it as tightly full of lies as her life. She knows it is the same in the few letters she receives from him. He tells her nothing and assumes she can understand even less, sketching the few words she needs to hear, words of love and forever, with lies brighter and bolder than any she has written here.

She brushes her finger over the wax seal and then turns the blank face of the envelope up and writes his name in her careful scrawl. She writes of nothing timely, knowing that he is not likely to get the letter in any timely manner. She writes of nothing truly personal, because she knows he will not read such things aboard his ship. She writes because it is what one does, and he will write her back, the burden of lifting the pen in his every word.

_Captain Horatio Hornblower. His Majesty’s Ship, Atropos_  



End file.
